


Green

by Hambone



Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Abuse, Eating, Emetophilia, Filthy, Ghost Sex, M/M, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: Morro hasn't had bodily needs in a long time. He revels in making Lloyd suffer for his.





	Green

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some friends saying Morro looks like he has a puke kink lol. This is HARD emetophilia so be warned. 
> 
> Enjoy!

    It was grey there. Lloyd wasn’t sure what he would have expected otherwise, had he had time to think about something like this, but nothing could have prepared him for it. There was no body or form here, no way to move or cry out. Just cold, and damp, and grey. He could still see himself, and what he did, but it was like watching yourself in a dream; no control, no real consciousness. What Morro did only brushed against his senses, barely there experiences he knew were happening but couldn’t quite feel, but he knew his body was dying.

    He didn’t know how long it had been, but Morro had not fed him, and only just drank enough to keep him alive. The other ghosts, from what he had seen, were ravenous for any form of corporeal matter they could get their hands on, but Morro was uninterested after his first few sips. He didn’t sleep. Lloyd was afraid, he knew that, but somehow being detached from his body made it seem hazy and far away, and he had to remind himself what the feeling meant. That made it worse, almost, when he was lucid, because he was losing himself.

    When Morro released him it was like being pulled from tar, thick and painful. It knocked the wind out of him, though he wasn’t sure if he had even been breathing before. He fell to the ground, blinded by how bright it was even in the dark of the cave they were hiding out in. There was no strength in him to scream, so he gasped instead, throat raw and dry.

    “Hello again,” said Morro, voice clinging to Lloyd’s skin like spider silk. He grabbed Lloyd by the hair and yanked his head back.

    “How are we feeling today?”

    Lloyd couldn’t say anything, and couldn’t even see him at first, eyes screwed shut in pain. Morro threw him down again and he gladly let him, the cold ground comfortingly solid. Morro was speaking to his cohort, a foggy and confusing dialogue Lloyd tuned out completely as he held the earth close. Sensations were becoming clearer again, but rather than assist him in coming back to himself they muddied the water further as starvation and injury came to the forefront of his mind. The thought of crying crossed his mind briefly, but he felt as though losing any more of what kept him together would be fatal.

    Then Morro was back at his side.

    “Alright, princess,” he said, “time to go back to bed.”

    The one benefit of his current state was that he could feel again, and with that came fear. For the first time since he had been released he tried to find Morro’s face, eyes unfocused. He opened his mouth to speak but only croaked. His lips were chapped and splitting. Morro cocked his head, hair falling over one eye, and smirked at him.

    “Aw, I know,” he crooned mockingly, “your life is so hard. Don’t worry. It’s not yours anymore.”

    He knelt down and Lloyd panicked, clawing at the dirt. Coughing, he managed to find words.

    “I’m dying.”

    Morro paused and that gave him enough strength to continue.

    “I-I’m dying,” he said a little louder. Morro regarded him coldly for a moment, but he had gotten his attention.

    “What kind of game are you trying to play here?”

    He wasn’t overly concerned, but it didn’t matter. Lloyd wondered how much of his body Morro could feel when he was inside him, if he really knew the pain or the hunger at all. Maybe he was just used to it, that was just his perception of how a body should feel. Steeling himself, he tried again.

    “You can’t keep using me if,” he paused, chest heaving with the effort of breath, “if I’m dead.”

    “Yes, I get that logic,” said Morro scornfully, “but you aren’t injured. Trust me, I would know.”

    “I’m hungry,” said Lloyd, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

    Morro considered this. It was true, he hadn’t really thought much about the care and upkeep of his new form. It was so long ago he had inhabited solid matter himself, even things that were natural seemed bothersome and uncomfortable now. Having sensation again, and power, made it worthwhile, certainly, but having to do smaller, unnecessary things such as bathe or find food had been off his mind. Lloyd had been strangely sluggish lately however, his muscles refusing to respond sometimes, his eyes refusing to see clearly. Morro wasn’t sure if it was hunger. He had always been hungry before.

    “And?” he said, “What do you want me to do about it?”

    Lloyd rolled over onto his stomach with some effort, pushing himself up on his elbows to look at Morro. Everything ached, his skin so hypersensitive that his clothing felt like steel wool and the pebbles were tacks against his palms. Morro was crouched on his knees, smiling.

    “I…” he wasn’t sure how to even respond, the absurdity of Morro’s question bending back on his already lethargic mind.

    “Yes, princess?”

    “I need to eat.”

    Morro’s eyes lidded, and his grin seemed to grow softer, though no less predatory. He rocked back on his heels and hummed.

    “Yes, you seem to think you need a lot of things.”

    “I’ll die,” said Lloyd again, not sure how to make his point any more plain. Morro could play the part all he wanted; he needed Lloyd anyways. Lloyd knew this. Out of all the muddled thoughts that had come and gone with Morro inhabiting his conscious, that was one that stuck. Morro could not be the green ninja without his body, though he had never yet been able to really tap that power.

    “Really, it’s not so bad.”

    Lloyd never broke his gaze. He didn’t have the energy to be angry, but he did not back down. Morro exhaled nothing out his nose, dropping the act.

    “Alright, I get it. You know you have that one over me.”

    He stood up and hollered back into the cave.

    “Ghoul-Tar! Come here!”

    Lloyd let his head dip, relieved. He lowered his forearms to ease the strain on his elbows and heard, without listening, the short conversation between Morro and his goon as they discussed where to procure something edible by human standards.

    “It doesn’t have to be good,” Morro snapped, “just food!”

    “Ghoul-Tar not know area,” came the wheedling reply, and Morro growled like a dog. Lloyd was certain that, should it be possible for ghosts, he would have hit him. Instead he simply sent him off anyways, and a few moments later Banshaa’s voice echoed down the stone walls agreeing to help. Seemingly satisfied, Morro approached him once more.

    “Anyways,” he said, and Lloyd realized he was to be put down again. His stomach churned, and he knew, with an animal fear, that he had to stop himself from being possessed, even if just briefly. Any time within himself was a victory.

    “Wait,” he gasped, pushing himself up on his knees, “I haven’t- I haven’t eaten yet.”

    “You don’t need to be free for that.”

    Morro stared down at him. Lloyd licked his lips, wincing.

    “I know but, let me. Please.”

    “Please?” Morro scoffed.

    “I owe you nothing! Why the hell should I show you any mercy?”

    There was enough cotton in his head as it was. Lloyd blinked slowly, forcing the syllables to form on his tongue.

    “You need me.”

    “I need your body!”

    Morro swooped down and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him up until the unnatural cold wind of his shadowy form sucked Lloyd in, air into a dead lung.

    “I don’t need _you_.”

    “I-I didn’t ask for this.”

    That was the wrong thing to say. Morro’s fist tightened on his cloak, tearing it to shreds with his uncut nails.

    “None of us asked for this! If we had what we wanted, I’d have been in your shoes forty years ago and you’d be cuddled up in the Cursed Realm with your precious Daddy right now!”

    That stung, and Morro had known it would. Before Lloyd could formulate a response he was thrown to the ground, hard. His lungs emptied so fast upon impact his vision went black, and then Morro kicked him solidly in the stomach. Lloyd coughed and retched, curling in on himself and grasping at the fresh wound. He had nothing to expel but bile, dribbling down his cheek and into the dirt. He could not see this, encompassed in a shell of his own misery, but Morro observed him closely. The mood in the small cave changed perceptibly, though he didn’t have the presence to understand how. Morro could not breathe, but the stagnant air did for him, gathering up around his body and then relaxing slowly, his element manifesting what he no longer could. He stood there and watched Lloyd cower until Ghoul-Tar returned about a half hour later.

    “This good?”

    He was holding a woven lunch box. Part of the edging had been torn raggedly. Lloyd tried not to think about where he got it.

    “Hm.”

    Morro opened it and scrutinized the contents.

    “It’ll do.”

    He took it from Ghoul-Tar, who floated in place dumbly, watching him. Morro was distracted by the lunch, pawing through it.

    “Ghoul-Tar did good?”

    Startled, already having forgotten his presence, Morro looked up at him with slit eyes.

    “What do you think? Get out of here!”

    Ghoul-Tar retreated with a face like a smacked ass. Morro knelt beside Lloyd again, shaking the lunch box in one hand.

    “Here we are then.”

    Lloyd’s eyes flickered between Morro and the food, skeptical.

    “Oh, come on. There’s no catch!”

    He peeled back the lid with his long fingers, revealing a half-eaten apple and some sort of sandwich, still pristine within its plastic baggy. There was a wrapper for something already eaten balled up inside as well, and plenty of room for more. Wherever he had gotten it, Ghoul-Tar had likely been interrupting. Tentatively, Lloyd reached for the apple.

    “Ah-ah!”

    Morro yanked the box out of reach.

    “What do we say?”

    Lloyd mustered a glare, but he was so, so hungry.

    “Thank you.”

    “That’s right.”

    Morro patted his head with his free hand, nails tangling in his unkempt hair.

    “Good boy.”

    Lloyd felt ill, but swallowed his pride. He needed to eat.

    Thankfully this time he was unimpeded. Morro sat back on his haunches and watched with some interest as he devoured what was left of the apple, the sweet juice so strong on his tongue it dazed him. It was only now he could really taste how dirty his mouth was, and biting into it made his teeth sore. He ate down further into the core than he probably should have, a small, colorless memory of the other children at Darkley’s talking about cyanide poisoning flashing across his mind.

    The food gave him strength, and he sat up now, unwrapping the sandwiches eagerly. He didn’t care that Morro was just a few feet away, dead eyes piercing him keenly. He didn’t care whether the food was good, or that the sandwiches had tomatoes in them, which he hated. Every nerve ending in his body was lighting up. He felt the hairs on his arms rise, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. He bit the inside of his mouth hard enough to taste blood mixed with the lettuce and he didn’t stop. Halfway into the second half of the sandwich Morro began to shift restlessly.

    “Slow down,” he said, “don’t choke that special, Chosen body of yours.”

    Lloyd didn’t even spare him a glance, tucking into the rest in one messy bite and then putting his fingers into his mouth one by one to suck the crumbs from under his filthy fingernails. He pushed about the trash in the box, hoping to find more. The crumpled wrapper had some traces of chocolate on it, which he licked off ravenously. Morro laughed at him derisively, annoyed he was being ignored.

    “Pathetic.”

    “Do you have water?”

    Lloyd looked at him, uncaring.

    “I need a drink.”

    “Isn’t that enough for you?”

    Morro stood and kicked the box into a corner of the cave.

    “That’s it. That’s all you get,” he snarled, “you’ll live.”

    But now his body was waking up, finally digesting, and a weak thrill of adrenaline hit his veins. Lloyd struggled to his feet as well, lightheaded but alive.

    “How long do you think this can go on, Morro?”

    He squared his stance, swaying.

    “What, are you going to beat me up and escape? Gonna destroy an entire army on your own, Chosen One?”

    Lloyd shook his head. He knew he was outmatched. That thought didn’t make him feel as helpless as it had before.

    “You can’t live my life. Just because you have my body doesn’t make you me.”

    “I wouldn’t want to be you anyways,” he spat, beginning to circle Lloyd, “all those pathetic little hopes and dreams, that cruddy little life you live trying to make everyone happy. All that fawning over your father, even now that he’s rotting.”

    He shook his head.

    “All that power and you don’t even know what it’s for. I’d be ruling this world. What do you do with it? Solve break-in’s at the museum? Help your decrepit uncle sell tea?”

    Lloyd followed him steadily.

    “I help people,” he said, “that’s what this power is for.”

    He expected another angry retort, but instead Morro rushed him. Even with a healthy body he would have been too slow. Morro drove a fist into his diaphragm with such force it knocked him clean off his feet. He gagged and dropped solidly onto his knees, smashing them bloody through the pants pf his gi. This all happened within a matter of moments, and all Lloyd really registered was the sick, evil feeling in his stomach and then he was hunching forward onto the ground and vomiting.

    “Fuck!” said Morro loudly, but he didn’t sound angry anymore.

    Snot closed his nostrils. Unable to breathe, Lloyd started to gasp, only to be cut off with another wave of sickness. The force was like being struck all over again as he puked up what was left in his guts, the pile of barely digested food stinking between his thighs. He swooned, trying to back away from it even though it was all over his legs and face speckled across his arms. Morro was behind him in an instant, or maybe he had been there for a while, grabbing the back of his head.

    “Look at you now, you filthy little coward.”

    The wind in the cave was pumping again, in and out around them, only enough to be noticeable. Lloyd spat up what he could in his mouth, head swimming.

    “I-!”

    “Shut up!”

    Morro, holding him steady with one hand, kneed Lloyd in the small of his back. Lloyd cried out loudly, coughing as he accidentally swallowed bile.

    “You don’t deserve any of what you have,” he said, then, “what you had, I guess.” And he laughed. Lloyd grabbed at the hand in his hair, trying to pry him off.

    “Stop it!” he wheezed, “You need this body too!”

    “Oh,” Morro laughed, “that’s right! I do!”

    He slammed Lloyd down, face first beside his sick. Lloyd instinctively tried to pull away, but Morro’s grip was so strong.

    “I guess that means I can’t have you starving again, hmm?”

    He was becoming manic now, voice growing louder and higher as he held Lloyd down.

    “Better keep you all nice and full, right?”

    He jerked Lloyd towards the vomit and Lloyd pushed himself onto his hands, bracketing himself around it. He struggled back.

    “What are you doing?”

    “Eat it,” Morro yelled, “Eat it! Eat it! You bitch, eat it!”

    He put his knee on Lloyd’s back, forcing him closer.

    “No!”

    Morro’s lips were by his ear, not solid like the rest of him but Lloyd could feel him near, the coldness of him.

    “You don’t wanna die, do you? The proud green ninja, starving to death because he was a picky little brat?”

    His fist tightened in Lloyd’s hair.

    “I didn’t have that option, you know. I had to eat whatever I was given. Whatever I could dig up in the trash.”

    Lloyd’s elbows buckled. His arms were smearing in his vomit now, just barely keeping his head up.

    “Don’t do this,” Lloyd begged, knowing he was begging, hating himself for it, “please.”

    “Sometimes,” Morro growled, “we don’t get nice choices.”

    The strain broke him. With a sad little cry, Lloyd was pushed into his own filth. He turned his head to the side immediately, gagging as the smell filled his nostrils. He hadn’t even had a chance to wipe his mouth before, but now puke was smeared across his lips, his cheek, his nose. He scrabbled at the ground until his nails chipped and split. Morro made a deep, rumbling sound of pleasure.

    “There we go, princess.”

    He couldn’t breathe. He opened his mouth to gasp, to sob, and wondered if dying was worth it.

    “Come on, you need to eat.”

    Lloyd knew he was right. The others were waiting on him. They relied on him, the source of their strength. His eyes squeezed shut, hot tears mixing with the mess.

    He opened his mouth, and he ate.

    “Yeah,” Morro whispered, grinning madly, “yeah, you worthless waste of breath, look at you now.”

    His mouth already tasted of bile, but it was the knowledge of what he was doing that made his throat close. Lloyd had to pause to stop himself from heaving again, breathing in small, unsteadily hitching gasps. Morro’s fingers were kneading his scalp, sharp and painful. He took a bite of the undigested sandwich and it burned on his tongue.

    “That’s so hot,” Morro said, perhaps more to himself, “finish it, all of it!”

    Lloyd gagged, hoarsely sobbing through his open mouth. He swallowed wrong and had to cough up again, gall in his lungs and his nose. He took in another mouthful.

    Morro was shifting back and forth, agitated, hissing softly. His knee was rubbing harshly up and down Lloyd’s back. As disgusting as it was Lloyd still felt, sickeningly, the satisfaction of fullness again. When he’d cleaned up the mass of it he started licking at the ground, dirt and rocks going down along with the leftovers. He wasn’t going to die, even if this is what it took. Morro crouched beside him, watching from so close that, had he been alive, he would have been breathing the same air as Lloyd.

    He was done, then, and he pressed his face into the damp ground and shook. He felt sick and wrong, but he would survive. He had to. Morro pressed all along his back, suddenly less physical than before, melting along him like a fog.

    “Good job,” he hummed, on both sides of Lloyd’s head, “perfect, one thing you’re good at.”

    It felt like arms were encircling him, but never solid, pawing at his stomach greedily. Morro wasn’t merging with him, quite, but he was in and out, phasing between the two plains of existence. He jammed two fingers into Lloyd’s mouth, suddenly and with sharp force. Lloyd didn’t have the strength to resist him, jaw falling open wide to keep from gagging himself again.

    “You’re filthy, you know that?”

    He dragged his hand back, smearing his spittle-wet fingers through the vomit on Lloyd’s cheek.

    “Disgusting.”

    “Let me go,” said Lloyd, only meaning to the extent that he was held, but Morro laughed deeply, and the sound reverberated through them both.

    “What, now that I’ve fulfilled your little fantasy there, you want to leave?”

    “I didn’t-“

    “What did I tell you about shutting up?”

    Morro slammed his face forwards again. Lloyd heard a small crack and blood burst from his nose. It didn’t hurt particularly badly, and he knew it wasn’t broken, but he was already covered in grime and he pushed away from it, whining loudly. His nose was blocked with drying vomit and snot and half the blood ran backwards down his throat, coppery and thick.

    “Look at you!”

    He tried to wrench away, but Morro was becoming physical again and held him fast. The hand on his stomach squeezed. To his disgust, Morro leaned in and licked a stripe across his lips, tasting the fruit of his injuries. He purred, and Lloyd wondered if he could taste it or if he was simply reliving the memory of those flavors. He had known Morro was enjoying his degradation, but now it was becoming clear exactly how much. The very idea was loathsome, and only became more so when he realized his lower half was becoming numb again.

    Part of him accepted this, because having Morro in control again meant no more pain. The degradation and fear and exhaustion would be swept away again under a rolling tide of nothing, and he would be able to curl up into the womb of his subconscious and feel nothing. However, Morro was wild, wilder than he had ever seen him, the cage to his inhibitions unlocked and the beast inside growling. He didn’t know what Morro was going to do to him, and what he would have to live with when he was brought to the surface again. He struggled as their spirits began to meld.

    “Still fighting back.”

    Morro huffed with laughter, as though admonishing a child.

    “You’d think you’d have learned by now.”

    “Don’t- don’t do this.”

    Lloyd wasn’t sure what he was protesting, but he knew Morro sufficiently now to understand it wasn’t good. While trapped he could only watch, images fuzzy and dull, but he had seen enough. Even if he had been blind to that, the past hour of sadism had beaten the lesson into his bones.

    “Aw,” Morro stroked his hair, “don’t worry, I’ll let you watch.”

    He was submerged, but only just. Lloyd grit his teeth, and then, realizing he could still do that, tried to pull away, but his body wouldn’t respond.

    “Morro…”

    “Yes, I’m here,” said a voice inside him, and he sat up, only it wasn’t him doing it but Morro. His own hands waved in front of his face, mocking him. There was blood under his nails from trying to escape.

    “What-“

    His head rolled back, and he felt his body surge with warmth suddenly. He could still feel it, which should have been a relief but now terrified him. Knowing his thoughts, Morro laughed.

    “Don’t worry, I’m not planning to torture you anymore.”

    As he said this another hot spike hit him and he realized, with dread, that it was arousal. Morro’s personal feelings were now affecting his body, pooling inside his belly, which still churned with sickness. His hands were now caressing his neck, sliding down the crusty drying slick of fluids to his breast. Lloyd turned his head away, not wanting to see any more, but he could feel everything. His own fingers wormed behind the now feculent shawl and armor, between the folds of his gi. He could feel his ribs beneath the taut muscle of his chest, his shallow breaths drawing them tight.

    “Mmm,” Morro groaned, “I’ve missed this.”

    Lloyd wanted to say something venomous in response but he was unable to speak, drowning in horror. His hands did nothing but touch at first, wrapping around his chest, squeezing his skin. Morro had been busy, all this time. He hadn’t considered the gift he’d been given until now.

    “You’re sick,” said Lloyd, knowing Morro knew and that he didn’t care. Morro purred and laughed and found his left chest with one hand, the other squirming down to his stomach. He tugged at Lloyd’s nipple, fingers wet and rough. Lloyd shook his head, mouth hanging open. His other hand, Morro’s hand inside it, stroked across his abs, uncomfortably detailed due to his emaciation. He pressed down, a little too hard, and Lloyd groaned in discomfort.

    “How does it feel, hmm? Getting turned on after that.”

    Lloyd said nothing. He had nothing to say. Morro knew full well – or did he? – that it was his own sensations hardening in his gut, his own thrill sending Lloyd’s blood south.

    “You like eating your own sick off the ground, like trash, like a rat?”

    Morro plucked at his nipple, hard, and Lloyd grit his teeth. It hurt more than he ever would have liked, but Morro’s pleasure radiated through him like electricity. His other hand was restricted by the belt of his gi, and withdrew, frantically tearing at the knot. He was impatient, needy after decades of nothingness. Lloyd could have almost pitied him.

    He got Lloyd’s pants undone messily and plunged his hand in. Lloyd could feel that he was hard, but he wasn’t ready for the heat, and he moaned involuntarily, though it was a pitiful, pained noise. Morro crowed with laughter inside his head, handling his cock roughly, cupping his balls with unsteady fingers. Obviously inhabiting this body had led to him viewing it in the nude before, and caring for its needs, but he had always regarded these moments with a clinical disinterest. Now, though, he fondled down Lloyd’s dick with great intent, feeling every fold in the soft skin, the ridge of each pink vein. He raked Lloyd’s broken nails through his soft, blonde pubic hair, hissing and spitting mirthfully. Lloyd wanted to pull away from his own touch, from himself. He wished Morro had stuffed him back into the grey after all.

    “You are trash, you know? You’re nothing, nothing!”

    Morro was ranting, pinching and pulling at Lloyd’s breast, jerking his cock feverishly.

    “It was always meant to be me. You were born into this body, but it’s mine now. Your power is going to be mine too. I deserve it. I earned it.”

    His movements were off, possibly from years of disuse, awkward and uncoordinated, but the passion was so intense Lloyd was genuinely blinded by it. He felt Morro’s excitement, and it was overwhelming. Lloyd was not an innocent in this regard, but he had never in his life felt so much perverse pleasure at something so personal, been so maniacally aroused. Morro raked his nails across Lloyd’s chest, hard enough to cut him. The winds in the room pulsed like a heartbeat.

    “Disgusting, worthless-!”

    Morro trembled and so Lloyd trembled too, hips spasming erratically.

    “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

    He came quickly, spilling out into his own hands. Dehydration and illness meant there wasn’t much for him to give, but he spent himself with fervor, Morro wheezing and growling like an animal. The orgasm wrenched itself from Lloyd, painful and unwanted. His lips split, already red with the blood from his nose, and he cried loudly, unable to stop himself. It was a base, instinctual pleasure, and nothing about it relieved him. His own skin felt foreign and crawled beneath his hands. If he hadn’t been so desperate to stay alive he would have been sick again.

    The peak faded and Morro seemed to settle inside him, the sharp coldness of his presence dulling to a frozen numb feeling that Lloyd welcomed. His body slumped back in a heap, sick and foul smelling. He doubted Morro cared. Though he was trying his best to slip into unconsciousness, Lloyd couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of his friends and loved ones seeing him like this, repulsive, not even human anymore. Morro was in his mind and a small, final thrill of satisfaction rolled through him, leaving a pleasant buzz at his fingertips. There was no indication as to whether he was right.

    “I can’t wait till you’re dead,” said Morro, and Lloyd sank back within himself, and the thought was no longer interesting, and he could almost find himself agreeing with the sentiment.

 


End file.
